Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.

Sassy Guest Blogger: Gretchen Musgrove

Polo shirts. Sailing shorts. A bowl cut. Boy, was I a handsome five year-old. Kindergarten hadn’t started yet, but I remember being excited to meet some new people. Playing He-Man with Jay from down the street had run its course. Castle Grayskull no longer held my interest, and Jay had started asking me about my penis. It was time to bounce.

My mom dressed me up for the first day of school. She gave my Dorothy Hamill bob a blow dry and fitted me into some fresh khakis. This was it, I remember thinking – this is moment when my social life would take off. And, I arrived ready to impress. I brought rubber balls and jacks, and an extra string cheese to share in case someone’s mother forgot to pack a lunch. With a little advanced planning, becoming the most popular kindergartener seemed like no-brainer.

I sized up the other kids as we formed a line outside of our classroom. Should be pushovers, I thought. Luckily, I was standing behind a very pretty girl with long blonde pigtails. She had pink ribbons in her hair and a matching Barbie backpack and lunch pail. Impressive. I decided that she’d do for my first best friend. I stalled for a moment, trying to think of how to introduce myself. But, before I could find just the right words, she abruptly turned around and blurted, “Are you a boy or a girl?”

I wasn’t prepared for a question like that. Did she somehow know that I slept in SuperMAN pajamas? Trying to keep the conversation friendly and casual, I chirped “I’m a girl,” with as much gusto that could make its way around the lump in my throat. I hoped this minor confusion wouldn’t affect my friendship with the blonde, but she whirled back around and never looked back.

The suspicion about my gender spread like wildfire. I didn’t teach anyone to play jacks or get to share my string cheese that first day – or ever during kindergarten. The recess duty, Mrs. Shannon, let me and the other outcast, Hassan, walk around with her during breaks, but Hassan always made me hold her left hand – the one that only had four fingers.

I stood by my androgyny that year. I took it like the man my mother wanted me to be. A makeover would only make me look weak. However, I knew the metallic Fraggle Rock second-hand lunchbox and the mushroom haircut had to retire next year.

A little advice to parents of young girls out there: a little mod is cute, but full on male is mean.

About Gretchen Musgrove:

General: I’m a mostly professional gal with a penchant for pranks. I work at the UW and teach Nia fitness classes on the weekends.

Nicknames: Tiny Crime, Wild Man, Little Sweetie.

Points of Interest/Concern: I have impulse control issues. I’ve been known to eat too much, drink too fast, and dance too hard. Cubicle etiquette is not my forte and playing practical jokes on others makes me feel better about myself. My two favorite movies are The Last of the Mohicans and The Big Lebowski. I have a thing for Bret Michaels and Scott Musgrove.

Contact: Follow me on Twitter or learn more about me and my Nia classes on my Website.

Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.